


Waiting's End

by lauren3210



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Side mentions of Dean/Ginny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren3210/pseuds/lauren3210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A part of Draco had taken the challenge seriously: yet another fight between them to see who would cave first. A remix of Megyal's fic, The Wedding Planner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting's End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megyal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Wedding Planner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/248573) by [megyal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal). 



> Dear Megyal, I was both excited and nervous to receive you as my remixee, because you were the first H/D writer I came across. I chose this story to remix because it was the first ever H/D story I read, so it’s important to me. It came out a little angstier than I was originally going for, but I hope you like what I did with it anyway!

The Leaky Cauldron had surprisingly few customers for a Friday evening. All of the stools running the length of the bar were filled, as usual, but most of the tables sat empty. Sitting right at the back, rolling his glass against the grain of the wooden bench in front of him in a nervous gesture he couldn’t seem to stop, Draco was quite alone. It had probably been a mistake to arrange to meet here. Too public, even with the lack of usual Friday night pub-goers. But Draco had been nervous and had blurted out the first and only place he could think of, his mind otherwise embarrassingly blank.

And now he was stuck here, waiting.

He’d toyed with the idea of blowing it off, of course. Several dozens of times, in fact, in the time between Harry cornering him after the rehearsal to arrange a time and place to meet, and the moment the euphoria began to wear off. Before Ginny Weasley had walked into his office, smiling radiantly and holding a slip of parchment with Harry’s name written across it in his easily identifiable chicken-scratch handwriting, Draco had been completely fine. Well, no, he hadn’t, not completely - who could be when their last thought at night was Harry’s hands on his skin, and their first thought in the morning was his sleepy smile, and yet their bed was always empty of anyone but themselves? But he hadn’t been pining, no matter what Pansy might have said. He’d simply been biding his time, until his business was up and running, had become successful enough that the name Malfoy was no longer mud. Just waiting for the right time, that was all, and before Ginny had stepped into his office, Draco would have sworn blind that it still hadn’t arrived.

He’d thought about sending an owl to cancel, mulled over whether to include a reason, a last minute wedding disaster that he simply had to deal with immediately, or whether to simply state, _sorry, I’ve changed my mind._ He’d even gone so far as to write them out in his head, but every time he tried to put quill to parchment, the words floated away, out of his reach. It would have been pointless, anyway; Harry would have accepted the first and offered him another date, for which Draco would have had to find yet another reason to cancel. And he wouldn’t have accepted the second at all - as patient as he had been, now that Draco had shown him an opening, Harry would no sooner let the opportunity out of his grasp than he would the snitch. 

Then he’d thought about just not showing up, but just as he’d decided on this particular course, he’d instead found himself standing in front of his wardrobe, picking out something to wear. Something that said _I’m still not sure I’m ready_ but maybe also said _thank you for waiting_ and maybe even _I didn’t think you would._

It had been a kind of fight between them, of course it had. Draco may have had his reasons for not being ready, but the way Harry had uttered the words, _I’ll wait,_ so determined and stubborn and tinged with just a little bit of exasperation, Draco had taken the statement for what it was: a challenge. 

_“You shouldn’t.”_

_“Because you’re not going to change your mind? Or because you don’t want me to wait?”_

_“Because it’s a foolish thing to do.”_

_“Then I’m a fool. I’ve been called worse.”_

A part of Draco had taken the challenge seriously: yet another fight between them to see who would cave first. It was the same part of him that was surprised at how much it hurt when he’d thought he’d won. It was the same part that chafed at him later, sitting at that table waiting for Harry to arrive. Draco had caved, and Harry had won the fight.

But it had also been a test. Draco had realised it, the moment Dean Thomas had run into the hall and assumed his place, proving Draco’s assumption wrong. He’d been waiting for Harry to fail, to prove to Draco that no matter what he said, no matter what he declared in that dramatic way of all Gryffindors worth their colours, he just wasn’t up to the task. But of course Harry had proved Draco wrong; he always had, hadn’t he? Like, for example, being late to a date that he’d apparently been waiting for.

Draco looked at his watch; ten minutes past the hour. Ten minutes of sitting at the table, slowly drinking his gillywater, and changing his mind a hundred times about whether or not he should be there at all. It might have been embarrassing, sitting at a table alone, nursing his drink and startling upright every time the door opened or the Floo chimed, if it wasn’t for the simple fact that nobody was paying any attention to him. Draco realised that it had been that way for a while now; the sight of his distinctive Malfoy features entering a room had long since ceased to cause even so much as a ripple, unless it was a wedding he was planning, and then everyone looked to him with an air of excited expectation, certain that he was going to propose something wonderful, if they only stood still long enough. This should have been the sign that he’d been waiting for, Draco knew now. He’d just been too busy waiting for it to arrive to notice when it finally had.

Fifteen minutes past the hour. Draco should leave. It had been stupid to come here, stupid to make the arrangement. Stupid to think that he could have this, after keeping it at arm’s length for so long. He ruined things, it’s what Malfoys _did._ It was yet another reason why he’d pushed Harry away: he couldn’t wreck something that he didn’t have a hold on.

Eighteen minutes past the hour. Yes, he was leaving. It didn’t matter why Harry was late; Malfoys didn’t stand for being stood up. He left his still half-full glass on the table, leaving through the entrance to Diagon Alley to get a breath of fresh air. He’d walk for a while, until he could remember exactly why he and Harry had been such a bad idea in the first place, and then he’d Apparate home and go back to life as usual.

“Draco.”

His voice - so familiar, causing shivers up Draco’s spine - came from the shadows, to the left of the pub’s lone window. Draco turned on his heel, all previous thoughts coalescing into a tight ball in his stomach and unleashing as anger. He gripped Harry by the collar of his robes - dark blue, expensive, he noted absently - and shoved him against the wall.

“You’re late.”

“No,” Harry replied, hands sliding around Draco’s waist. “I was here, I just…”

Over his shoulder, the grimy window gave Draco a perfect view of his forgotten drink, still sitting by itself on the tabletop. 

“I just…” Harry repeated, but still couldn’t seem to find the rest of his explanation. 

Draco smiled, that ball of anger turning back into a small flame of hope. He didn’t need Harry’s explanation, because he understood. Harry, _his_ Harry, so strong and sure in his waiting, had stumbled at the final hurdle, and now they were finally on the same page.

“It’s only fair, I suppose,” Draco said, softening his grip on Harry’s collar and sliding a finger across the skin beneath. "It was my turn.”

Harry smiled and pulled him into a kiss, a soft, chaste press of lips on lips. Draco tangled his fingers with Harry’s and pulled them both away from the shadows, out into the street behind them.

It was time. They’d waited long enough.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic, and Megyal. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The [fic link](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/140573488799) and a [pull quote](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/140593241469) have been cross-posted to **tumblr**. Help us promote the fest by liking and reblogging!
> 
> Comments are ♥. Leave them here or over on [LiveJournal](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/94995.html).


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